


I Cross My Heart

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim visits Blair in Virginia<br/>This story is a sequel to Please Come Home for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Cross My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> THANKYOU!THANKYOU!THANKYOU! To the wonderful people who stepped into the beta reading batter's box: Heather, Marius, and Vickster. Equal hugs of appreciation go to Kim, Hope, and Wolfling. This wouldn't have been posted (or have a sex scene ;-) without their much needed input. Eriker, many thanks for the wonderful suggestions and encouragement. 

## I Cross My Heart

by JR

Author's disclaimer: Jim, Blair, Simon, and everyone else you recognize are owned by UPN and Pet Fly Productions and are used without their permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it. 'I Cross My Heart' by George Strait also used without permission. 

* * *

The sun was strong in the midday sky. After adjusting his Ray-Ban's, Jim Ellison flipped a page in the Tom Clancy book he held propped open in his other hand. God, just how long had it been since he'd had time to read more than a page or two before giving into his exhaustion and falling into another night of horror-filled dreams? 

Too long. 

A deep sigh escaped him as he closed the book and set it aside. Out of a habit he'd learned in what seemed like another life, his pale blue eyes made a cursory sweep of the open quad around him, searching out any potential dangers before allowing himself to rest easily. Nothing out of the ordinary caught his attention. Of course not. Crime wasn't exactly a major consideration on the Eastern Virginia College campus. Shaking his head at the unnecessary precaution, Jim reclined back into an untidy sprawl on the blanket spread out beneath him. 

In the distance, the Appalachian Mountains loomed on all sides, creating the valley in which the entire campus was located. This was a much older chain than the Cascade range back in Washington, or even the majestic Rockies. Over the millennia, time and the elements left their marks, wearing down the sharp cliffs and jagged edges of the rocks. These mountains were rounded, softer and greener than their western counterparts. Even on a bright day like today, a perpetual haze tinted the forestcovered hills in the distance with a purple hue. That same haze was the reason the region was often referred to as the Great Smokey Mountains. 

The last time Jim had visited Blair, the younger man had given him a complete run-down on the history of the area. The anthropologist in Blair was fascinated by the various native American tribes, the local folklore, even the customs of the region. As usual, Jim only half-listened to his guide's mini-lecture. As he looked over his surroundings, Jim wished now that he'd paid more attention to what his guide had said back then. 

It was easy to understand why his guide liked living here. The beauty of the area was breathtaking, and for the most part, the majority of the people he'd come across adhered to the rules of traditional Southern hospitality. It seemed to Jim, a man born and bred in a large city, that life moved a little slower here. Instead of rushing from one place to another, people stopped to look along the way. Clichd and idealistic? Maybe. But, to put it frankly, it was something the sentinel needed desperately right now. 

It felt so good to finally be able to relax. For a while there, Jim wondered if he'd forgotten the concept. Five weeks. Five long weeks and thirteen little boys raped and murdered. He never asked for the case, no cop _liked_ working on child homicides, but the thought of refusing never once crossed his mind, either. As with many cases of this nature, eventually the Feds were called in, and as sure as night follows day, the FBI had jurisdiction in the matter. As the original investigators, Jim and his partner, Brian Rafe, remained on as part of the Federal Task force, only two out of nearly a dozen men searching a large city for a single psychopath. Suffice it to say, Jim's low opinion of Federal agents did not improve much as time wore on and the body count rose. 

With each broken, violated victim they were called to investigate, with each pair of tormented parents' eyes he faced, with each clue that led to yet another dead end, Jim felt a little more of himself slipping away. Only Blair's nightly phone calls kept him going from day to day. Sometimes they talked about the case, or on the nights that Jim couldn't stand to think about it any longer, Blair would talk about his classes or his students. On the most painful nights of all, those twelve nights that followed the discovery of yet another victim, Blair would listen silently as Jim released his rage over failing the youngest of those he was charged to protect, both as a police officer and as the Sentinel of the Great City. And just once, when his anger was finally spent, Jim cried out his sorrow and frustration while Blair comforted him with soft words of love. 

The sound of distant laughter broke Jim out of his reverie. Opening a single eye, he focused his powerful vision in order to gain a visual of the source of the sound. Two girls were walking side by side across the parking lot about 200 yards away. Without meaning to, he picked up part of their discussion over where to go to lunch. With practiced ease, he filtered out the sound of their voices. 

Nearly seven weeks after the first body was found, the task force closed in on one Jeffery Mason -- only minutes too late to save the life of the last victim, an eight year old boy. Somehow, even through Mason's insane laughter and the taunting barbs he threw at the officers for taking so long to find him, Jim kept himself from breaking the man's neck then and there. 

But Jim Ellison forgot that he wasn't the only one who'd been working the case from the beginning, nor was he the only one near the breaking point. 

With a cry that would have made a Confederate Rebel proud, Brian Rafe hurled himself at Mason, beating him into unconsciousness before any of the other officers could even get close enough to pull him away from the murderer. Jim would wonder the rest of his days if, just perhaps, he hesitated purposely before pulling his partner off Mason. Maybe, just maybe, he wished that it was he, instead of Brian, who rained blows on the sick son of a bitch; standing by and doing nothing until the man was beaten and bloody. 

Regardless, Rafe's actions could have cost him his badge, not to mention a nasty lawsuit for police brutality. Internal Affairs looked into the matter, but after word filtered down from the Feds that Mason wouldn't be pressing charges, Brian found himself on a two week unpaid suspension rather than facing unemployment. He was lucky, and they all knew it. 

Once the matter with Brian was settled and all the paperwork 'crossed and dotted' to perfection, Jim found himself being called into his Captain's office. He was tired; the kind of soul-weary exhaustion that left the sentinel feeling even more hyper-aware of his surroundings than he usually was, as though all his nerve endings were suddenly outside of his skin. He couldn't remember the last time he ate something that didn't come from a drive-thru window, nor could he recall the last time he'd slept without nightmares. He was close to losing himself, and the worst part was the fact that he was aware of it. 

"I'm giving you a week's leave, Jim," Simon Banks told him matter-of-factly. Chomping down on the unlit cigar in his mouth, the Captain handed him a small slip of paper. "Go see the kid. He knows you're coming, and he'll pick you up at the airport." 

For the first time, Jim actually looked at the note in his hand. A flight number and a time were the only things written on it. While the idea of taking a few days off was certainly tempting, and the mere thought of getting to see Blair again was causing some interesting jolts below his waistline; Jim's number of vacation days was already dwindling for the year. In January, he'd taken a week-long trip out to Virginia, and more recently he, his brother Steven, and Blair had traveled to Aspen for a late spring vacation. "I really appreciate this, Simon, but I just took two weeks, God, was it really only two months ago? It seems like ancient history already." 

"Which is exactly why you're going now. The days off are comp time from all the extra hours you worked on the Mason case. Now just go home, pack your bags, and give me a call when you're ready to go to the airport. Sandburg said it was pretty warm in Virginia this time of year, so bring some summer clothing." Simon was waving a dismissive hand towards his door, but kept speaking anyway. "Oh, and tell the kid that Darryl and I said hello, and that if you aren't rested and ready to return to work at the end of the week, he shouldn't bother coming back to Cascade any time in the near future." The last part was said with a mock glare, and Jim smiled at what he knew was sarcasm. Over the years, Simon Banks had grown to respect, and though he'd never admit it out loud, admire Blair's tenacity and his devotion to Jim. 

On the way home, Jim's sleep-deprived brain considered the matter a little further. Jim couldn't help but doubt that Simon would still feel the same way if he ever found out that Blair Sandburg was Jim's lover. The thought of Simon discovering that little nugget of information sent a chill down Jim's spine. That he loved Blair wasn't the problem; having that love as common knowledge was just something neither he, nor Blair, was ready to face. Yet. 

The flight out to Virginia was uneventful, in fact to his embarrassment, the flight attendant had to wake him for the landing. Changing planes wasn't a problem for once, and finally he was face to face with his lover for the first time in over two months. Paying no mind to the people around them, Jim pulled Blair into a back-breaking hug in the middle of the small regional airport. 

"Simon was right, you _do_ look like an extra from 'Night of the Living Dead'. C'mon, man. Let's get you home and put to bed," Blair admonished as he lead Jim to the baggage claim area. Once they were in the car, Jim grabbed the younger man's hand, needing the tangible connection between them just as much as he needed air to breathe. To his credit, Blair never once let go; not even when Jim dozed off during the hour long drive. 

The minute Blair closed the door to his faculty apartment, Jim pushed him gently against a wall and kissed him with all the passion he possessed. As tired as he was, Jim's body still followed along with his mind's desire. Even fully-clothed, the friction of their rubbing bodies led both men to explosive orgasms within minutes. Unfortunately, it also drained the last of the sentinel's reserve energy. Asleep on his feet, he allowed Blair to lead him to the bedroom, but he would later have no memory of the younger man stripping off his clothes and tidying up after their sexual interlude by the door. The last thing he remembered was the comforting, familiar sound of Blair's heartbeat. 

The next thing he knew, he was waking from the demands of a painfully full bladder. A quick sweep of the apartment told him that Blair was not home, not surprising considering it was already daylight again. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jim made his way to the bathroom, only to be stunned when he passed a clock along the way. Taking into account the time difference, he'd slept almost twenty hours. Blair came home from work while Jim was in the shower. Always looking out for his sentinel's needs, his guide was well prepared for the return of Jim's appetite, feeding him a huge dinner before insisting that he return to bed for another marathon round of sleep. Honestly, the sentinel thought he wasn't tired; teasing Blair that a 'good, healthy sexual workout' might help, though. His guide just smiled, spooning up behind his larger form. Jim was asleep before Blair finished settling into a comfortable position. 

That was just last night. After another solid, nightmare-free twelve hours of shut-eye, Jim's biorhythm was back to normal. Now, if only his mind would follow suit. The detective was well aware that he had been physically exhausted by the long hours and nightmare- interrupted sleep working the Mason case. But all the rest in the world wouldn't make his doubts and self-loathing disappear. 

An unbidden memory rose in Jim's thoughts; one of himself standing in the kitchen back in the loft during the Lash case. He remembered telling his relatively new partner that he needed to learn how to distance himself from the victims in their murder cases. God, what a hypocrite he was, lecturing Blair like a cadet from the police academy, when he, the detective, was completely unable to practice what he preached. 

An involuntary shudder ran through the sentinel's large frame as he recalled just how close he'd come to losing Blair to the serial killer. But Jim had come through, shooting five rounds into Lash and earning the title of 'Blessed Protector of Blair Sandburg' in the process. While five bullets may have seemed excessive to everybody else, the review board included, to Jim's way of thinking, the number was nowhere near enough. Perhaps that was why Jim chose to just stand by and watch Rafe as he pummeled Mason into a pulp... 

By sheer force of his considerable will, Jim narrowly managed to shelve the stray thoughts of both the Mason and Lash cases. He was there to relax, he silently repeated to himself like a mantra. Like a magician using one hand to distract attention from the other, the sentinel replaced the pain-filled thoughts by trooping out more pleasant memories: those of his guide. 

Earlier that morning, Blair invited Jim to accompany him to the campus that day, promising a fun-filled, relaxing event for the afternoon. He wouldn't say what they were going to be doing, but quite frankly, Jim couldn't have cared less if he ended up reading research journals all day, as long as he got to spend time with his lover. 

The sound of the bell tower chiming the noon hour interrupted Jim's mental wanderings. It also reminded him that he needed to get up and get moving. After years of bitching about Sandburg's habit of perpetual tardiness, the sentinel knew that he would never hear the end of it if he was late. With a joint-popping stretch, Jim rose and neatly folded the blanket on which he'd been resting. Grabbing his book off the grass, he headed off in the direction of Blair's office. 

With a detective's eye, Jim noticed that there were more people walking around now that the majority of classes had let out for the day, but there was still a feeling of emptiness to the campus. While fall and spring enrollment numbers usually averaged about 8,500; only 500 students or so signed up for summer courses. 

Blair was teaching two summer classes this session, an Anthropology 101 which met on Tuesday and Thursday nights from six 'til ten, and a special seminar on Native American tribal customs which convened daily from ten in the morning until noon. It was the latter class he was teaching now. Or, more precisely, it was class that had just concluded for the day. 

Most of the tenured faculty declined to teach over the summer months, preferring either to travel, spend time with their families, or even focus on research or articles for publication. As low-man in the Anthropology Department's hierarchy, Blair was expected to assume the duties of the Anthro 101 offering on the summer schedule. While he would have preferred spending his summer in Cascade with Jim, Blair's contract with the EVC ran from the previous August until this July, leaving him no choice in the matter. 

The year-long contract was binding in more ways than one, though. Because of his agreement with the University, Blair was required to give at least two months notice before leaving to pursue another teaching position \-- a deadline that was rapidly approaching. As early as March, the young professor had carefully and methodically submitted fresh resumes to many of the same colleges and universities he'd applied to only eight months earlier. Although Blair enjoyed working at EVC, it was still his goal to find a position somewhere relatively close to Cascade. Unfortunately, to both his own and Jim's frustration, all the replies he'd received thus far were negative. 

With his powerful sense of sight, Jim easily spotted Blair standing out in front of Bryant Hall. Like many buildings throughout the south, most of EVC's dormitories and lecture halls were made of red brick. It was a common building material due to the abundance of red clay in the region. 

"Hi Chief," Jim greeted tenderly. He was more than half-tempted to grab Blair and examine his tonsils, and from the look on his lover's face, the feeling was mutual. However, there were still students milling about, and more than likely, some of them Blair's. While the majority of EVC's student body were liberal in their thinking, the school still had it's share of bigots and it was impossible to spot them by appearance alone. 

"Hey Jim," Blair replied. The tone of his guide's voice was as much of a caress as the gentlest touch could ever be. 

"So what's on tap for this afternoon?" Jim inquired. 

As he asked the question, the front door of Bryant Hall swung open. A tall brunette emerged dressed in cut-off denim shorts. The strap of a red bikini top that tied around the neck showed just above the collar of her white, over-sized T-shirt. "Hey, Jim. Here Blair," she said as she handed over a plastic bag covered with the logo of the local discount store. "Y'all ready to go?" 

"Yeah Sabra. We'll meet you there," Blair replied. "Let's go," he said to his sentinel, handing the bag over to his lover. 

Sabra Lowstein was many things in life: the student assistant to the Anthropology department, the granddaughter of EVC's Chancellor, and most importantly, one of Blair's newest test subjects. In addition to teaching his regular classes, Blair was still actively pursuing his research on the sentinel phenomenon. 

He'd yet to find another full sentinel, but Sabra possessed four heightened senses: sight, hearing, taste, and smell. That alone would have been enough to warrant further study. Initially, Sabra sorely lacked the level of control she needed to live a relatively normal life, and Blair was all too willing to help her learn how to do just that. Now, a year after they started working together, Sabra was handling her senses with little outside assistance. In comparison, her abilities were nowhere near as advanced as Jim's, nor would they likely ever become so, which was fine by her. 

Jim's eyes trailed after Sabra as she made her way to the student parking lot. A feeling of sadness washed over Jim as he noticed the limp in her steps. She'd been in a rather nasty car wreck the previous Thanksgiving, one that almost cost Sabra her life. Months of extensive physical therapy were needed for her to simply walk again, but she would have a limp for the rest of her days. 

Following Jim's line of sight, Blair smiled sadly. "She's doing a lot better now that she's back in school." 

A deep exhale accompanied Jim's next words. "Why is it always the good ones, Chief?" he asked rhetorically. "Why not some scumbag drug dealer or pimp?" 

"'Cause it can be a cruel universe," Blair noted philosophically. 

"It usually is, Chief. It usually is," Jim replied, thinking about those thirteen children whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. As a feeling of depression washed over him, Blair placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It didn't chase the shadows in Jim's thoughts away completely, but it helped to remind him that he wasn't all alone in the world. 

* * *

Twenty minutes and some very winding mountain roads later, Blair's Volvo station wagon pulled off the highway and onto a dirt road. Just past the turn-off, the sentinel spied a sign that read: "Doyle River Access and Recreational Area." Ahead in the distance, Jim easily saw dozens of cars with various items strapped to the roofs. Several of the vehicles' radios were blasting, car doors flung open to increase the sounds of the music. Groups of people gathered around the picnic tables, some eating, some just sitting around shooting the breeze. A couple of girls in bikinis were laying out in the sun on towels. Two men were sliding kayaks into the water, getting ready to set off downstream. 

As soon as Blair parked the car, it was surrounded by a group of college students calling out various greetings. 

"Hey! Dr. S. We got everythin' set up over here fer y'all," one kid drawled out slowly. 

"Cool, Corbett. We'll be there in a minute," Blair called out the window before he began rolling it shut. Jim followed suit and moved to exit the car, but halted when Blair asked for his wallet. An uncomfortable look passed over Jim's face as he watched the younger man shut both their billfolds into the glove compartment, locking it with the ignition key. Earlier that morning, Blair had been firm when he requested that Jim leave his gun back at the faculty apartment. 

"I take it we're going swimming?" Jim asked, still unsure of what the plans were for the afternoon. 

"Not exactly. Oh, you can leave your shirt here, but put these on," Blair answered, handing over the bag from Sabra. Inside it was a pair of generic, black velcro-and-rubber sandals. Hardly his style, Jim balked at the thought of wearing them; but Blair insisted, strapping on a pair of his own. "The rocks can be pretty sharp, and I doubt that you want to ruin your Nikes." The younger man was quite correct. The idea of ruining a pair of top of the line sneakers was less than appealing. Using his lover's ever-present pocket knife to cut off the tags, Jim fiddled with the straps, adjusting and readjusting the velcro until he was satisfied with the fit. To be honest, he was surprised at just how comfortable they felt, even if they weren't much to look at fashion-wise. 

Once finished, they stripped down to their bathing trunks and applied a generous coat of water-proof sunscreen. Finally, the younger man locked the car doors and set out to find his students with Jim in tow. 

Nearing the group, Jim saw Sabra standing among four other college kids, two guys and two other girls. Off to one side was a large stack of rubber inner-tubes, the kind that used to fit semi-tractor trailers. The kids were horsing around, laughing at something or another, but called out pleasantly when their teacher approached. 

"Hey guys, this is Jim, my best friend from back in Cascade," Blair gestured with a wave of his hand. He then proceeded to introduce the kids to Jim. The older man only hoped that he would be able to keep all the names and faces straight in his mind. 

"Here, Jim." One of the guys tossed the sentinel a can of beer, evoking a frown. The detective sincerely doubted that the kid was twenty-one, and underage possession was a crime in the State of Virginia. 

Noticing the look of disapproval on his lover's face, Blair whispered for Jim's ears alone. "C'mon, Jim, relax. When in Rome. It's not like they're going to be driving anywhere, and it's nothing they don't do the rest of the week." 

Blair's pleas for understanding made no impact on Jim whatsoever. The law was the law, no matter if the local authorities turned a blind eye or not. Finally, the sentinel looked up from the can he held in his hand into the azure blue eyes of his guide. The can Blair was holding was already opened, and even from this distance, Jim could easy smell the familiar mixture of barley and hops on the younger man's breath. Blair was looking at him with that infamous puppy dog expression, the one that could melt petty dictators into sniveling lumps of jelly. Those deep pools of blue were mesmerizing, like a vortex that caught and captured everything in its immediate vicinity. Jim was lost, and he knew it. 

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, Jim cracked open the can and took a hesitant sip. No matter what brand, drinking beer out of a can was always an unpleasant prospect for a sentinel. With his powerful sense of taste, the aluminum taste of the can itself invariably contaminated the crisp flavor of the beverage. 

Knowing the cause of Jim's displeasure, Blair hastily offered an apology as well as an explanation. "Sorry about that, but it's a generally accepted rule that nobody brings bottles on the river. The glass is too dangerous." 

Nodding in agreement, they approached the stack of inner-tubes. One of the students, Corbett, looked up at their approach. "You weren't kiddin' when you said he was a big guy, were you, Dr. S?" For a moment, the sentinel worried that his size and bulk would make it impossible for him to join the party on the river. However, Corbett put his mind at ease with his next comment. "Don't you worry none, we found another tube like Jessie's. Jessie, the other male student, was even taller and broader than Simon Banks. If Jessie could fit into the tube, then it wouldn't be a problem for the sentinel. 

Tubes were handed out by Corbett's girlfriend, Katie Lee -- earlier, Jim had found small amusement in the fact that many girls in the South seemed to have two names, the middle one either 'Sue' or 'Lee.' Jim was surprised to find the tube he'd been given had a circular piece of wood in the middle held in place by industrial twine. 

"Don't mind that," Katie Lee reassured. Her accent was the most Southern by far. Jim would later learn that she hailed from a little town in Kentucky, where speech was even slower and more drawn out than here in Virginia. "Big guys like you and Jessie tend to drag along the bottom in the shaller patches 'a river. It'd be a real shame if somethin' happened ta that nice butt of yers..." 

"Hey!" The word of warning came from both Blair and Corbett, but it was the former who added, "don't embarrass him this early in the afternoon." 

'Good save, Chief,' Jim thought in amusement as he flashed a knowing grin at his lover. It had been Blair's choice not to come out on campus, but many slips like the one he'd just made would eliminate the option of remaining in the closet. 

"So where are we headed today?" Sabra asked to nobody in particular. 

"Well, we thought we'd just head on downstream, maybe break at Juniper Lake, then put out at Jenny Sue's. My car's down there so'as I can run y'all back here later," Corbett replied. 

"How far downstream are we going?" Jim inquired. 

"Well the lake is about a mile yonder, then another half-mile to Jenny's." 

Before the younger man even finished his sentence, a choking sound escaped the sentinel's throat. On any other day, Jim wouldn't have even noticed the remark, but after the horrors he'd faced in the course of the past six weeks, the absurdity just struck him the wrong, or maybe the right, way. He needed the release of this spontaneous laughter. It had been so long since he'd found humor in anything, the intensity of his outburst was actually making the muscles of his abdomen ache. 

The other students, Corbett in particular, were all staring at him with odd looks, wondering what they'd missed. After a moment, Blair realized what was amusing his sentinel so much and began grinning himself. Taking pity on his students, he let them in on the joke, since Jim was now laughing too hard to speak for himself. 

"I think that's the first time Jim's ever heard the word 'yonder' actively used in an actual conversation," the young professor grinned. 

Even in spite of his laughter, Jim worried momentarily that he might have offended some of the born-and-bred Southerners in his company. The fear faded as one by one, grins broke out on all the gathered faces. Corbett half-heartedly muttered something about 'city-boys' under his breath. 

"You're such a redneck, Corbett," Jessie chided amidst his chuckles. 

"Hello? Pot...kettle...black," Sabra retorted, widening the smiles on all their faces. 

Once they settled down, everybody gathered their things and headed towards the water's edge. A wide, wooden stairway led down to the river, but the students ignored it, instead choosing to jump straight from the wall set into the deeper water. As each person hit the waist-deep water, they gave shouts and yells that left Jim wincing at the volume. Blair looked over in concern, but the sentinel dismissed his guide with a barely perceivable shake of his head. 

Eventually Blair, Jim, and Jenny Sue were the only ones left standing on the bank along with their inner-tubes and two coolers. The sentinel gave a hand by lowering the Igloo's down to waiting hands, where they were carefully strapped to extra tubes. Those tubes were then tethered to Jessie and Corbett's floats. Shaking his head at the student's ingenuity, Jim lamented that these kids could probably find a solution to global warming if they ever put as much thought into studying as they did to recreation. 

Jenny Sue and Blair's entry into the river at the same time dragged the sentinel out of his thoughts. Finally it was Jim's turn. 

As soon as the sentinel's lower body hit the water, he sucked in a harsh gasp of surprise. Cold water never really bothered him, that is, when he was prepared for it. However, given the warm temperature of the July afternoon, he wasn't ready for the chill of the mountain stream, especially where it came into contact with his genitals. As the sensation overwhelmed him, Jim felt the edges of reality start to gray, fading into the oblivion of a fierce zone-out. 

"Jim, come back, man. It's okay, hear my voice..." 

The comforting, soothing sound of Blair's voice brought him back. For an instant, he wondered why his guide's volume was so low, but then he recalled that they were surrounded by curious college students. He needn't have worried, though, as Sabra was doing her best to distract her classmates; realizing and understanding just what was going on with Jim's senses. 

"You okay, Jim?" Blair asked softly as he waded over to the older man's side. 

"You could have warned me, Chief," Jim chastised. "I think my testicles crawled up far enough to be considered ovaries." 

Laughing outright, the guide just shook his head. "Sorry 'bout that, but there just isn't an adequate way to warn somebody about it. Best thing to do is just let 'em jump right in." Ignoring Jim's scowl, Blair first flipped the rubber tube to get it wet. He then positioned it directly behind himself. Crouching downward to gain enough momentum, he leapt upwards and back, expertly landing in the hollow center of the inner-tube. 

Handing Blair his beer, Jim did his best to copy the younger man's movements, but nevertheless missed on his first try and ended up losing his balance. The warning glance he shot at his lover was unnecessary. Obviously, Blair had done the same thing in the past, as he offered the older man some advice. "Hold onto the tube with both hands to keep it steady. That's it. See? Not so bad. Just use your arms to paddle with, like rowing a boat." 

Jim was the last of the group to get settled, and at Blair's urging, the sentinel and guide paddled themselves ahead of the others. The younger man explained that given Jim's size and weight, his tube would move slower than those of the lighter students, so they might as well get a head start. With that accomplished, the group was on its way. 

An incredible feeling of laziness overtook the sentinel as they floated along the river. It took about five minutes for him to orient himself, to pick up the coordination to navigate the water's surface. At the students' urging, he avoided the shallower banks and overhead trees where water moccasins and other unfriendly snakes liked to lurk. Although his feet, ass, and arms were numb from the chilly water, turning down his sense of touch made the uncomfortable sensation less noticeable. He wondered how Blair, who was always so sensitive to the cold, was managing; but the younger man did not seem to display any discomfort. 

From time to time, the group encountered rougher stretches of the river. While nowhere near whitewater conditions, the mini-rapids were still tricky to negotiate without getting either soaked or banged up against the larger boulders that randomly broke through the water's surface. At one point, they crossed a small waterfall, no more than three feet in height, but it was enough to cause an adrenaline rush in each and every one of them. 

Jim joined in the conversation from time to time, ignoring Corbett and Jenny's debate over who was the best NASCAR driver on the circuit, but comparing army horror stories with Jessie, who'd just gotten out after a four year tour in the infantry. 

All of the students were a little shocked when they first learned that Jim was a police detective. Yet, they listened with a combination of both humor and awe when Sabra convinced the sentinel and guide to share a few details on some of their more outrageous cases. Judging by the admiration in their eyes, they had no idea of their professor's 'other' job back in Cascade. 

Beers were tossed back and forth, the empty cans carefully collected back into the coolers for later disposal. Between the alcohol and the warming rays of the sun, Jim found himself growing sleepy despite the solid two days of rest he'd just had. Ever in tune with the needs of his sentinel, Blair maneuvered himself alongside Jim's inner-tube. Reaching out a hand, the younger man grabbed a hold of the rubber surface, his arm providing a make-shift tether between the two rafts. 

"Why don't you try and get some rest. It's a calm stretch for the next half-hour or so, and I'll wake you if anything comes up," his guide suggested. 

With a sleepy nod, Jim closed his eyes and relaxed into a light doze. Not quite asleep, he heard every word perfectly when Corbett asked if Jim was alright. 

"Yeah," Blair all but sighed. "He just finished up a real nasty case. Thirteen children between the ages of eight and eleven murdered in a little more than a month." 

Curses varying between 'Oh my God' and 'holy shit' were uttered by several of the students, all of them speaking in a hushed tone in reaction to the horrific nature of the crime. Even with his eyes closed, Jim could feel the stares as the students realized just how tough his job could be. As with so many kids, they only thought of cops as 'the people out to get them'; for speeding, drinking, or partying a little too hard. Cops were authority figures; the law, 'the man,' something to be either avoided or ridiculed from a safe distance. Maybe now they would see the flip side of the job, the serve and protect aspect, rather than the harass and annoy angle they had previously associated with law enforcement. 

Silence descended over the group for a time, at least until Blair dispelled the air of discomfort with a few of his tribal lore stories. With the melodic sound of his guide's voice crooning in the background, Jim fell into a light doze. 

* * *

An indeterminate time later Blair woke Jim with the explanation that they had reached the lake. The flow between the two bodies of water was controlled by a small dam, which the students referred to erroneously as 'the lock.' The obstruction made it necessary for all of them to exit the water and hike down a dirt trail for about a hundred yards. With their tubes slung over their shoulders, Jim and Blair both grabbed one of the handles on the larger cooler and carried it between them. 

The path ended abruptly at a ledge of cliffs about twenty feet above the water line of the lake. Another trail provided easier access to the surface, and the girls threw their tubes into the water below before carrying the coolers down safely. The guys being guys, Jessie and Corbett both tossed down their tubes and retreated back down the path they arrived on initially. Breaking into a run, the two students jumped over the cliff and hit the water cannonball-style. 

Smiling at their antics, Jim turned to Blair and found the younger man staring at him with a cocked eyebrow. Seeing the challenge, the sentinel matched his guide's grin with one of his own. Without so much as a word of warning, he pivoted sharply on his heal and ran back up the trail with Blair only a few steps behind. By mutual consent, they both turned and reversed their course, laughing as they rushed forward to the edge of the cliff. 

There's always a moment when one jumps from a great height, just a fraction of a second where the body feels totally weightless. It's an exhilarating feeling, like being at the top of the world and master of all that can be surveyed. It's almost like flying, however brief it lasts... 

...at least until gravity kicks in and the body falls like Wiley E. Coyote in a Roadrunner cartoon. 

Perhaps that was why Jim and Blair were still smiling as they impacted with the water's surface. Opening his eyes underwater, the sentinel was more than a little surprised to see just how deep the lake was. Scrambling upwards, Jim broke the surface only a moment before his lover. As blue eyes sought out and found blue eyes, the two men shared a smile that spoke of happiness, contentment, and above all else, love. 

A honey-rich voice broke into their wordless exchange. "Y'all hungry? We've got tuna or chicken salad." 

Swimming over to the shoreline, sentinel and guide joined the others for sandwiches and, once the beer ran out, sodas. Conversation flowed freely around mouthfuls of food. Since the placid lake had virtually no current, the inner-tubes were left right where they floated in the water. 

"I don't get it, Chief. This water's warmer than bath water." Jim asked the question as they collectively headed back into the lake. 

"Actually, this is a reservoir. The water stays warm since the dam is used for electricity. It's man-made, which is why it's so deep." Blair explained. 

Getting back into the inner-tubes was more difficult, as the deep water made it impossible to brace oneself and jump. Jim watched as the other executed a complicated maneuver of flipping the tubes on their sides and dragging them down into the water before easing back into them. It took a couple of tries before he managed it, but eventually he was once again resting in the center of the float. 

They spent about an hour at the lake, alternating between swimming, jumping off the cliff, and just plain lazing about in the tubes. Checking the time, they headed back to the path that led to the colder water of the river. Along the way, Jim noted that they were all a little sunburned, but only on the front side of their bodies. Grumbling about uneven tans, Blair wordlessly produced the bottle of sunscreen from one of the coolers. 

"You'd better do your back, too. Or maybe you'd like some help with it?" Blair tempted in a sentinel-soft tone. Jim glared, knowing that Blair's offer would have to be refused in light of the students around them. A hiss escaped his lips as he applied the freezing cold lotion to his chest, it's temperature made chilly by the ice in the cooler it had been stored in for the trip. 

Warmed by the sun and heated lake water, the river seemed even colder when they entered it this time. Jim was a little shocked when he observed that everyone, Blair included, was resting on their bellies rather than settling their butts into the center of the tubes. So this was how they managed to keep their suntans relatively even. 

The trip to Jenny Sue's was short, less than thirty minutes. Her apartment complex was situated on the other side of the rural road that paralleled the river. Some enterprising student had fastened a thick rope two trees on each side of the river's banks. Exiting the water was made easy by just reaching up for the rope and shimmying hand over hand to the bank. 

Towels were handed out, but most preferred to lay-out, allowing the sun to evaporate the excess water from their bodies. One by one, they all sank onto the ground, resting on their stomachs to sun their backs. Jenny handed out sodas to quench thirsts caused by the heat of the late afternoon. 

Not too much later, Corbett offered to take them back to collect Blair's car. Plans were made for an impromptu bar-b-que at Sabra's after everyone had the chance to go home and clean up a little. The inner-tubes and coolers were left at Jenny Sue's as they piled into Corbett's Chevy Blazer for the trip. 

On the way, Jim turned to his lover, smiling his thanks for a most enjoyable afternoon. Blair returned the grin, but said nothing. 

It was one of those times when words were simply unnecessary. 

* * *

The warm, rich sound of Blair's laughter echoed behind him as Jim made a beeline for the shower. River water wasn't exactly the purest form of H2O, and with his sentinel sense of touch, the older man could feel each particle of the grimy layer of sediment that covered his body. Not overly fond of the sensation, Jim wanted nothing more than to wash his body free of it. 

"You coming, Chief?" he asked his guide, a hand extended in invitation. 

"Not yet," Blair wise-cracked, "but give me a few minutes." A saucy grin accompanied the suggestive remark. 

"Smart ass." 

"Yeah, but it's so cute." 

"And it's all mine." 

Jim's possessive words triggered the response he'd been hoping for when he said them. The sentinel was tickled by an initial wave of pheromones, the first sign of Blair's growing level of arousal. Looking deeply into those shockingly bright blue eyes, he saw the first hint of dilation in the dark pupils. 

Unfortunately, Jim's need for cleanliness was actively at war with his hormones. Breaking the intense eye contact between them, Jim reached in to turn on the shower. Blair was in the process of stripping off his sandals and swimming trunks, the latter revealing a cock that was just beginning to show signs of interest. 

Knowing that he was the sole focus of his sentinel's attention, Blair made something as simple as moving into the shower an act of foreplay. There was a small sway to his hips as he stepped into the tub, pausing for just a moment to remove the band that held his hair back in a ponytail. With an easy grace, he shook the matted curls out and deftly stepped into the warm spray, his back to the wall to give Jim a better view. 

As the water cascaded from his hair down the full length of his body, Blair placed his hands on his stomach, palms flat against the muscles of his abdomen. Closing his eyes, he threw his head back in abandon as his hands began a slow, sensual journey upwards, teasing the flesh and hair underneath as they moved. Approaching the area around his nipples, Blair's hands first slowed, then stopped to play with sensitive nubs. Jim watched in fascination as the slightly rounded buds tightened to sharp points under the teasing stimulation. The infamous nipple-ring was conspicuously absent, but it did not stop Blair from pinching and gently pulling at pebble-hard flesh until he groaned from his self-induced pleasure. 

The hands moved onward much too soon for Jim's liking. As the fingers skimmed over collar-bones and then along the graceful expanse of neck, Blair slowly righted his neck. Sapphire blue eyes met Jim's own as his lover's fingers dug into the long, wet strands of hair. After a moment's pause, the sentinel reached for the bottle of shampoo on the ledge of the tub, squeezing a generous portion into the younger man's waiting hand. 

Blair worked the shampoo into a lather with the same sensuousness that he'd shown to his own flesh only moments earlier. As the soap bubbled into foam, it released that all-too familiar scent that Jim had grown to love so much. With his breath now just shy of panting and an erection that threatened to burst through the confining swimming trunks he was still wearing, the sentinel was tempted to become an active participant in his guide's shower. 

Tempted, but not compelled. 

No, he chose to remain where he was instead, watching to see what his lover would do next. After the last of the shampoo was circling around the drain, Blair smoothed in conditioner, leaving it set while he tended to other parts of his body. 

Ignoring the washcloth draped over the towel bar, the younger man once again silently requested Jim's assistance with an outstretched hand. Jim willingly obliged, watching with keen interest as Blair started at his neck and worked his way down his body with his soapy bare hands. Surprisingly, other than a few slow pulls along his rampant erection which dragged moans from both men, Blair finished washing himself without any further teasing to himself or, by extension, to Jim. 

Thoroughly cleansed, Blair left the water running as he stepped from the tub into the large, fluffy bath towel Jim held for him. Drying the younger man off became a game of sorts, both men stretching and contorting in an effort to wipe away the stray beads of water without breaking the deep kisses they were sharing. When Blair overextended himself and stumbled, Jim felt rather than saw the smile on his lover's lips as he secured the smaller body more firmly against his own larger form. 

With a final, parting kiss; Blair surprised the hell out of Jim. "Go shower." The sentinel's face must have expressed the shock he was feeling. "Don't worry, I'll be waiting for you," his guide reassured. 

It was the quickest shower of Jim's life. 

* * *

Emerging with a towel around his waist, Jim sucked it a sharp breath at the picture before him. Blair was sprawled across his queen-size mattress, his head and upper body supported by two large decorative pillows. With one elegant hand, the younger man was carefully pinching a nipple, teasing it into full pebble-like hardness. His other hand was as equally occupied, maintaining a gentle stroking of his blood-engorged cock. 

Jim couldn't recall another time his lover looked sexier. 

"Would you prefer to watch?" Blair asked in all seriousness. 

One dark eyebrow rose in response to the suggestion. The sincerity in Blair's question was unmistakable. If the sentinel chose solely to observe, his guide would happily oblige. Jim's surprise was caused by the fact that, despite all the various ways they'd made love, voyeurism was not on the list. Yet, anyway. The idea, however, was mentally filed for future reference. 

"Maybe another time." Jim gave his reply as he stalked forward, unwittingly resembling the black jungle cat that was his spirit guide. Watching Blair pleasure himself was a tempting thought, but it was one that would wait for another occasion. At that moment, Jim's need to be a willing participant was too great to ignore. 

Like a diver smoothly entering the water, the sentinel slid up Blair's body until they were face to face. Lips met lips as erection pressed against erection, pulling moans of anticipation from both men. Their tongues danced and swirled together, caressing each other in an erotic dance. Bodies were likewise following suit, Blair somehow managing to squirm sensually against the larger body bearing down on him. 

Yet even in this most delicious situation, the sentinel found his attention wandering away from his lover. 

In almost all of his sexual encounters with Blair, Jim found himself training all of his acute senses on the younger man. The effect was similar to a slight zone out, only instead of narrowing one particular sense to focus on something specific; the sentinel found himself overwhelmed by all five of his enhanced senses reporting and recording each and every response of his guide. Unlike any of his other zone outs, these were in no way threatening. Instead, it was almost as if his extreme sensitivity to Sandburg allowed him to raise the intensity and pleasure found in their lovemaking to new heights, for both himself and for Blair. 

This special sensitivity was something Jim had never before experienced with any of his other lovers, including his ex-wife, Carolyn. Personally, he speculated that it had something to do with the sentinel/guide relationship that he shared with the younger man. Whatever the cause, the only thing that really mattered to him was that thing between Blair and himself worked without fail. 

Until now. 

As soon as Jim realized something was amiss, he froze for a short instant. Despite his best efforts to continue what they'd started, the ever-observant guide noticed his sentinel's brief hesitation. Squeezing a hand between their bodies, Blair placed it on Jim's bare chest and pushed slightly. 

Drawing away at Blair's request, Jim pulled back slightly, just enough to enable him to see the younger man's face clearly. As he stared into the smoky, expressive eyes of his lover, the sentinel read Blair's thoughts as easily as he read the morning paper. Concern, worry, and a touch of love all mixed together silently; asking unspoken questions while seeking answers from a pair of pale blue eyes and a twitching jaw muscle. 

The seconds passed by slowly as the necessary information was exchanged by the intense look the two men shared. There was simply nobody else in the world Jim would bare his soul to like he now did with Blair. All of the insecurities, the uncertainties, guilt, remorse, and doubt that he kept hidden under his normal iron mask of stoicism were exposed for his guide to see, leaving the sentinel feeling more vulnerable than he could ever remember. 

Blair's expression was one of pure shock. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing. For the first time in all their years of friendship, Jim was completely unguarded, offering Blair a level of emotional trust the younger man never thought Jim would have been capable of granting to anyone, let alone Blair. Instinctively, the guide recognized the significance of Jim's gesture, and as a result he treated it with the reverence it deserved. 

Neither man moved throughout the exchange. The sultry, teasing air of their foreplay in the shower evaporated in the face of such an overwhelmingly emotional need. Blair, however, saw this as an opportunity. 

"Let me love you, Jim," Blair whispered tenderly as he gently urged his lover to roll over, reversing their positions. "Let me help you put the pieces back together." The words were accompanied by soft, resilient hands that smoothed the tense flesh of Jim's bared chest. "You showed me how much you're hurting inside, Jim," Blair coaxed as he added more pressure to his strokes against the warm flesh underneath his hands. "Let me help to heal you. Will you let me do that, Jim?" 

The sentinel was unable to do anything else but nod his assent to Blair's request. As the strong, nimble hands carefully worked weeks of pent up tension from Jim's muscles, the sentinel closed his eyes in sheer bliss. Throughout it all, Blair's reassuring litany of words continued. 

"You take it all inside yourself, you know? You protect everybody else, but in order to do it, you put up walls to protect yourself." Shifting slightly, the smaller man's hands moved from Jim's waist to his upper thighs where they continued their magic. "You let so few people close to you, Jim. Even the friends you do let past your outer boundaries, you still keep them from getting all the way inside." 

Like a snowplow clearing a street, Blair's hands worked to sweep away the residual tension in Jim's legs. With calming, yet determined, strokes, he drove it downwards, leaving behind relaxed, if not sensitized flesh in his wake. And as Blair's hands released the tension in Jim's body, his words likewise worked to sooth the sentinel's aching psyche. 

"I guess in a way, I always knew that you cared about me. 'My Blessed Protector.' But it was always more than that, wasn't it?" It was a good thing that the question was rhetorical, as Jim couldn't have found the words to answer it even if he'd tried. 

Finishing with the larger man's feet, one of Blair's hands relocated to Jim's groin, his fingers finding the semi-erect flesh that awaited them there. Being more therapeutic than titillating, the sentinel's erection had diminished during the course of the massage. Now, under Blair's urging strokes, the fire within the older man once again began to grow. He was vaguely aware that Blair was doing something else besides touching him, but Jim was too content to open his eyes to investigate. 

"You gave me so much, Jim." Blair continued. "You let me study you, you let me live with you, you saved my life so many times, you let me make my own mistakes knowing that you would be there to help me when things went bad. And then, you gave me your love." 

Like the tender words stroking his ears, Blair continued to stroke his sentinel's growing flesh. Jim was moaning softly in response to his guide's inflaming touches, and it wasn't long until his hips began to unconsciously undulate in a silent request for more contact with Blair's soothing hand. Lubricated by Jim's own pre-ejaculate, those elegant fingers slid up and down his length, while an agile thumb gently traced the ridge that marked the crown of his now-leaking cock. 

There was a slight dip in the mattress as Blair leaned forward. When his guide's hot, moist tongue darted in for a sweeping lick of soft, sensitive skin of his testicles, Jim's hips bucked off the bed sharply. The thrusts took on a regular pattern as Blair's mouth retreated, but it remained close enough for Jim to feel the warm exhalations as the younger man completed his unfinished thoughts. 

"I saw the difference at Christmas, how you finally opened yourself up to me and let yourself love. But even, then I knew you were still holding something back." There was tightness in Blair's voice that hadn't been there before, but then again, Jim's moans were growing louder as Blair's hand continually moved faster and faster. "But now you've let me in completely, haven't you? I've seen it all, Jim; your self-doubt, the uncertainty that you hide so well from the rest of the world. And you know what?" 

So lost was he in simply experiencing his lover's touch, the sentinel didn't even notice Blair moving to straddle his waist, nor did he realize that his erection was being positioned upwards. In fact, it took his mind a few critical moments to even process that Blair's last sentence was a question. By then it was too late. 

"I love you even more for it." 

As the words left Blair's mouth, the smaller man sat straight down on Jim's cock, taking the entire length within him in one smooth stroke. Pale blue eyes shot open as a keening cry of surprise escaped the sentinel's mouth. A look of discomfort marred Blair's beautiful face, but the only thing Jim noticed was the radiant look of pure love in those expressive deep blue eyes. 

Neither man moved for a minute, one because of shock and the other due to adjustment. Despite Blair's one-handed self-preparation, the two lovers didn't engage in this act often enough to prevent the initial pain of penetration. Beads of sweat broke out all over the younger man's body as he struggled to willingly adjust to Jim's length within him. 

As the seconds ticked by, the sentinel also began to perspire. It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from thrusting up into Blair's hot, tight passage. With his powerful sense of touch, Jim felt every inch of connection between their two bodies. That knowledge alone was driving him to the edge of sanity. 

After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting, Blair rocked forward, pulling groans of ecstasy from both of them. With each thrust, his guide's discomfort lessened, until Blair was riding him with reckless abandon. Throughout it all, their eyes remain locked on each other. Just as their bodies were engaged in a physical union, they shared their emotions in a wordless communion. 

Blair was riding Jim like a jockey on a thoroughbred, raising himself up until only the tip of the larger man's cock remained inside him, only to plunge down until scrotum brushed against scrotum. Cords stood out on his neck from the strain and his face was glowing red from exertion while their bodies slapped together as thrust met thrust. And still it wasn't enough. 

Loud panting filled the air as Blair brought his movements to a sudden stop. Jim, however, tried to keep going, bracing his feet to gain the leverage needed to continue pounding into his younger lover. A forceful hand against his sweaty chest curtailed the sentinel's movements. 

Fighting to pull necessary air into his lungs, Blair leaned forward so he could adjust his position. Now instead of his shins resting flat against the mattress on either side of Jim, he nearly squatted over the other man's groin. With his feet planted firmly on the bed and his hands resting against Jim's chest for balance, Blair once more eased downward onto the sentinel's straining cock. 

It was incredible for both of them. This new position allowed Blair to take Jim deeper in than he'd ever been able to before. Still, he knew that they needed to be careful not to get too rough, lest he hurt himself. With that in mind, Blair slid his hands down to Jim's waist in order to have more control over Jim's movements. The slight pause in their activities had taken the edge off for both of them, so Blair set out to regain the ground they had lost. Moving carefully, the younger man rocked with slowly building speed. 

As Blair's eyes met his, Jim saw only one thing in them: trust. With the miniscule portion of his brain still capable of coherent thought, Jim realized that this was his guide's way of rewarding him for letting the younger man through the last of his emotional barriers. The significance of Blair's actions shot straight through the sentinel's body like an electrical charge, one that ended directly in his groin. 

Knowing that the end of this fantastic union was rapidly approaching, Jim was determined that his guide find completion first. Bringing one hand down to stroke Blair's bobbing cock, he placed his other hand on Blair's waist for guidance. With a minimal amount of urging, Jim helped his lover achieve an angle where Blair's prostate would repeatedly brush against the hard cock impaling him. 

The dual sensations quickly became too much for the younger man to take. "Oh God...Jim...I'm gonna come...I'm coming... COMING! ...JIM...JIM!" 

Hot, milky semen struck the sentinel's chest as it arched out of Blair's cock in long bursts. The rippling of contracting muscles squeezed Jim's probing flesh like a gloved hand, snapping his iron control in an instant. As his orgasm raced through him, Jim drew out the pleasure with a series of short, jabbing thrusts into his lover's still-spasiming ass. 

Once Jim's cries of release died down, Blair slumped forward onto his lover's chest in an effort to relieve his straining leg muscles. The sentinel easily felt the post-orgasmic tremors that still coursed through the younger man's body, and wrapped his own shaky arms around Blair's back. Muttering 'shushing' noises, he pressed a warm kiss into the juncture between his guide's neck and shoulder. 

"Oh God, Jim," Blair began, still breathing heavily from his exertions. "That was incredible." 

"Are you alright?" Jim asked in all seriousness. 

"I'm better than al..." 

"What? What's wrong?" An air of panic crept into Jim's tone at his lover's unfinished sentence. 

"Yuck!" Blair grimaced as he pulled away from the body underneath his. 

It was only then that Jim saw the pearly drops of Blair's spilled semen clinging to the thick mat of hair on the younger man's chest. He would have laughed at his lover's predicament if he hadn't been in the same situation. They would need yet _another_ shower, but it was well worth it for each of them to see the love shining in the other's eyes. 

* * *

The bar-b-que was already underway by the time Blair and Jim arrived. Some enterprising student had moved a set of stereo speakers outside so that the Caribbean/Country sound of Jimmy Buffett underscored the hum of conversation generated by those gathered. There were nearly twenty people milling around the cinder-block pit-style grill shared by the tenants of Sabra's apartment building. As they approached the group, Jim suddenly began choking. 

"Lighter fluid," the sentinel gasped out to his guide in between coughs. A reassuring touch on his arm helped Jim to hold it together long enough to dial down his sense of smell. "Thanks, Chief," Jim smiled warmly once he managed to regain control. 

"Got you too, huh?" Sabra chuckled. Neither Jim nor Blair had noticed the student walking up behind them. 

"Yeah. That was stupid, I should have seen it coming," Jim declared, his voice tinged with self-disgust. 

"Well, don't feel bad. It surprised the hell out of me, too." Turning to her professor, Sabra made a suggestion. "Why don't you take the food over to the grill? Just give it to Corbett and let him know how you want it cooked. C'mon, Jim. You can put your beer in the fridge up at my place." 

With a nod of agreement, and a private smile for his lover, Blair headed over to meet and greet the various students hanging around. Unconsciously, Jim's eyes feasted upon his lover's retreating denim-encased bottom. 'Nobody's ass should look that good,' he thought with a sigh. 

The sound of a throat clearing in amusement startled the hell out of the detective. A flush of embarrassment crept along Jim's normally stoic features; a reaction that had Sabra laughing outright. 

"Busted!" She crowed in delight. 

However, Jim failed to see any humor in the situation. He wasn't quite sure what upset him more: that he was so obvious regarding his feelings for Blair, or that Sabra already seemed to have figured it out for herself. Despite his inner resolve to mask his feelings of annoyance, Jim was unable to keep his facial expression completely neutral. One look at the unhappy sentinel was enough to strike fear into Sabra's heart. 

"Jim?" she asked hesitantly. "I'm sor..." 

Seeing the young woman's stricken expression, the detective noted her rapidly accelerating heartbeat and realized he was actually frightening the college student. Upsetting the girl was never his intention, and he found himself rapidly backpedaling to apologize. 

"God, Sabra, I'm sorry. It's okay." Keeping track of her vital signs, he calmly waited until they were back to a more normal rhythm before asking the question that was forefront on his mind. "How did you know?" 

"Are you kidding?" She asked the question with an incredulous expression. "The way you two look at each other is a dead giveaway." 

This news was unsettling to the sentinel. Ever since the romantic aspect of their relationship had begun, both he and Blair had taken extreme care to keep their burgeoning relationship under wraps. They were careful to maintain the appearance of their earlier friendship -- only allowing themselves slight, casual contact and absolutely no, as Blair termed it, 'public displays of affection.' 

"Besides, Detective," Sabra emphasized the title with a playful, sarcastic tone, "I may not be a full sentinel, but my sense of smell is almost on par with yours." 

As the implications of the young woman's words sank in, Jim stifled the groan that threatened to escape his lips. How could he, Cascade's officer of the year, have been so totally clueless? He knew better than anyone just how long the scent of sex clung to a person, even after a thorough shower. In the years before they became a couple, Jim could always tell whether or not Blair 'got lucky' when he went out on dates. The younger man was almost always careful to shower before he returned home, either out of deference to Jim's senses or simply out of personal habit. At the time, it wasn't as if Jim particularly cared one way or the other. It was simply like any other low-level stimulus to his senses; a brief flash of awareness, a fraction of a second of analysis, then dismissal as unnecessary and unneeded information. 

Somewhere along the line, Jim forgot that Sabra had abilities that were almost equal to his. She had analyzed the information and reached her own conclusions. The question now became: what was she going to do with the information? Neither Blair nor Jim was ready to 'come out' about their relationship for myriad reasons, most of which concerned both of their careers. Sabra's grandfather was the Chancellor of EVC. While the school's policies were liberal, Jim was well aware of the fact that there were too many bigots out there that could make Blair's working environment a living hell without breaking any laws or university policies. Or, even worse, they could decide that the law didn't apply when it came to a person involved in a same-sex relationship. Unfortunately, gay-bashing still occurred in almost every city in the country. 

The very thought of his guide in such a situation made Jim's blood run cold as the flash of fear triggered an adrenaline rush. Jerking his gaze to the young woman before him, the sentinel trained all of his senses on her to gauge what her intentions really were. As his pale blue eye sought out her brown ones, Jim searched for the truth he hoped to find there. 

"Jim?" Sabra asked cautiously. His gaze was penetrating, leaving her feeling like an insect pinned to a wall. 

The sentinel regarded the subject he was studying with great care, judging her thoughts by her facial expressions. Fear, worry, and concern all made brief appearances until finally, understanding became clearly evident. A small smile graced Sabra's lips before she began to speak. 

"I'm sorry if I spooked you there. I didn't know it was _that_ big of a secret," she explained calmly. "I mean, I've suspected it for the past few months." 

"How?" 

"I...well, lots of little things, I guess. Like I said, just the way y'all look at each other sometimes. And the way you two are so comfortable with one another. The number of times you call Blair's office during the week. But the biggest tip-off was the way Blair reacts whenever you call. Even if he's super-stressed or in a rotten mood, it just evaporates the minute I tell him that you're on the phone for him. Sometimes I can actually hear his heart rate drop as soon as he hears your voice." 

There was a pause as Jim digested the information. "Oh. I'm sorry I jumped to concl..." 

Sabra's hand shot out in a gesture of placation. "Don't worry, y'all's secret is safe with me. Unfortunately, there are all too many rednecks around here..." she trailed off, not wanting to even finish the thought. "Anyway, I just want to say that I think you two make a great couple. I don't think I've ever seen a relationship as...perfect as y'all's." 

A wry chuckle escaped the sentinel. "Well, it sure as hell isn't always wine and roses." 

"I can imagine. You guys are just so...different from each other. Guess that old 'opposites attract' thing must be true." 

"Maybe so," Jim agreed. 

The sound of a door shutting caught both of their attentions. Together, the pair watched as Blair made his way back towards them. "Just one thing, Detective. If y'all are planning on keeping your relationship a secret for a while longer, you might want to consider being more discrete before you visually molest Dr. Sandburg's ass." 

Laughing at Jim's shocked reaction, Sabra danced out of the way before the sentinel's playful swat could reach her. 

* * *

As the evening wore on, word of the party spread rapidly through the small college community. More and more cars appeared, lining both sides of the two-lane road that passed in front of Sabra's apartment building. Although most people brought their own beverages in brightly decorated coolers, a collection was eventually taken. Two kids were dispatched into town to fetch a keg of beer. All those who contributed were given blue disposable cups to identify themselves to the 'keg-master.' 

While the party was boisterous, Jim was taken aback by the underlying calmness of it. There were no fist-fights, no screaming arguments over 'you hit on my girlfriend' or other such nonsense. Instead, all the sentinel saw was a bunch of kids having a good time talking, drinking, and dancing. 

Even so, all the underage alcohol consumption bothered the cop in him, even after he spied a local sheriff wave to the crowd from his car as he drove by the complex. EVC was trying an experimental program over the summer session. The college hired students to work from 10 pm to 4 am as designated drivers. The drivers could easily be reached by a pager the school provided for them, and for a single dollar, the DD would take intoxicated party-goers anywhere within a two mile radius of the campus. Blair had been instrumental in sponsoring the program, modeling it after a similar service provided at his old college, Rainier. 

Throughout the night, Blair stood alongside his lover, introducing the older man to students and a handful of other younger faculty members who stopped by to say hello. If any of the students found it odd that some of their instructors were present, they refrained from comment on the matter. According to Blair, such occurrences were par for the course during summer session since there was little else to do in the quiet community. 

Never a fan of country music, Jim grimaced whenever the 'twang' of such a song was played on the stereo. Blair noticed his lover's reaction, but gave no comment other than a sympathetic shrug. The sentinel, however, doubted his guide's sincerity when the younger man gave into Sabra's urging and joined a large group for a line dance. One sharp look from Jim was all it took to convince her not to try her powers of persuasion on him as well. 

From the edge of the patch of grass that had been converted to a 'dance floor', Jim watched Blair laugh as he tripped over his own feet. With all the bravado and enthusiasm he'd come to expect from his guide, Blair refused to be discouraged by his sudden lack of coordination. Instead, the younger man waited a single count before jumping back into the motions, adding a sexy little sway of his hips to differentiate himself and make the dance his own. 

As fast as one can turn off a light switch, Jim's relaxed happiness drained away leaving him in the cold grip of guilt. Depression settled over the sentinel like a shroud, surrounding and embracing him so tightly, his insides began to knot to the point of nausea. Concentrating on not losing his dinner, Jim lost awareness of the people and party around him. 

"Jim? JIM! Listen to the sound of my voice..." Blair's soothing tone insisted. 

"I..I'm here, Chief." The detective's voice sounded rusty, as though it hadn't been used for a while. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I..." Jim's eyes closed as he gathered his strength to explain. "I was just thinking of those kids." There was a pause before he continued. "They...they're never gonna know this, Blair. They'll never get the chance to experience this. I see all these kids out here...laughing, having a good time, and all I keep thinking is that those thirteen children will never know this 'cause I let them down. Protecting them was my job, my...duty, and..." 

"Oh Jim." The sadness and compassion in Blair's tone was heartbreaking. Without conscious thought, the younger man stepped forward to wrap his sentinel in a much-needed hug, only to be stopped by Jim's outstretched hand. Whether Jim prevented the move out of awareness of their surroundings or a desire for emotional distance would forever remain a mystery to both of them. The simple rejection had an effect on Blair, however. Thwarted by Jim's refusal, the guide settled for placing a comforting hand on his sentinel's arm. 

"You're forgetting something, though." 

"What's that, Chief?" Jim inquired tiredly. 

"You're forgetting kid fourteen, and kid fifteen, and kid sixteen." Blair's tone was still gentle, but there was no mistaking the conviction in it. "What about the next kid that sadistic son of a bitch would have taken? In ten years, that kid is going to be at a party somewhere, having the time of his life. And why? Because of _you_ , Jim." 

Despite the words of reassurance, the older man would not allow himself respite from his guilt. Unable to cope with the compassion he saw in his guide's warm blue eyes, Jim's gaze dropped to his shoes. Under his breath he mumbled a comment about the uselessness of being a sentinel, let alone _the_ Sentinel of the Great City. 

"The word is 'sentinel,' Jim, not 'god,'" Blair insisted vehemently. 

That his lover heard Jim's quiet remark over the music and constant thrum of the partygoers surprised the older man. "Maybe we should get your hearing tested, Chief. Either these sentinel abilities of mine have rubbed off on you or your sense of hearing just kicked into overdrive." 

For once, Blair refused to allow the conversation to be dragged off on a tangent. Instead, he smirked at the comment before continuing his original line of thought. "Jim, be realistic here. You _are_ a sentinel and you do your best to protect your tribe, but unlike the sentinels of the past, your tribe has over 100,000 members. You're a lot of things, Jim: a strong sentinel, a great detective, and God knows you're a good human being. But you are _not_ omnipotent, you can't be everywhere. All you can do is your best. If you do that, then you're way ahead of most of the people out there." 

The words were accompanied by a firm clap to Jim's shoulder, reinforcing his guide's adamancy on the subject. One look at the unwavering devotion in Blair's deep blue eyes left the sentinel knowing better than to argue with his lover. Moments passed by silently, as Jim thought about his guide's words. 

This time, though, words were not going to be enough. 

The conscience is a funny thing. Sometimes, it's selective, carefully burying painful or traumatic memories until the rest of the mind is prepared to deal with them. But, on other occasions, it can be a fickle. In the past, Jim had been able to separate himself from his pain, folding it away as neatly as he did his clean laundry, until the case or crisis was over and done. Not this time, though. The ghosts of those thirteen children wouldn't allow it. 

Blair, however, was looking expectantly at Jim. The sentinel knew that his guide firmly believed that this little 'Jim is absolved of all guilt' speech would provide the basic blueprint for healing his lover's aching psyche. As those eager, innocent eyes stared at him, Jim made a quick decision. 

God, he hated trying to deceive Blair. It felt so wrong, so...unnatural. Yet, it needed to be done. This pain was his and his alone. Jim knew from experience that there were only two things that would help to make the hurting stop: time and love. With that in mind, the sentinel pasted what he hoped was a believable thin smile on his face and aimed it at Blair. 

There was a suspicious edge to Blair's expression, as if he saw through Jim's deception, yet the younger man wisely said nothing. After a moment or two, the look on his guide's face changed to one of longing. When Jim recognized the yearning he saw there, he gave Blair a genuine smile. 

"I know, Chief," he whispered sadly. As Jim lamented, the sounds of a slow, romantic song drifted across the lawn. 

"Damn, Jim. If ever there was a time I wish we could dance together..." Blair said softly. 

"I know, Chief," Jim sympathized as they watched students pair off and head out to the dance area. 

Neither man noticed their hostess lurking only a few feet behind where they were standing. Not only did she notice them, but her enhanced sense of hearing enabled her to listen in to their entire conversation. Leaving the picnic table she'd been busy clearing off, Sabra headed into her apartment with a very determined expression on her face. After everything Blair had done for her, she finally had a way to make a miniscule payment on the debt she felt she owed him. 

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Sabra led the pair into her apartment. "It's a surprise," she smiled as she linked an arm around each man's waist. "C'mon, it's not gonna hurt," she teased as she directed them up the stairs of her townhouse. 

"Right 'dis vay," the student teased with a horrible impression of a French accent. At the top of the steps, the young student opened the door of her bedroom with an almost comical flourish. Jim and Blair's quiet laughter at her antics stopped the minute they walked through into the room. 

The room itself was pleasant enough; muted blond wood furnishing embellished with curtains and walls in soft pastels that wouldn't irritate Sabra enhanced sense of vision. The window was closed and the shades were drawn, but instead of darkness, the room was illuminated by dozens of burning candles. The effect was breathtaking. 

"Sabra?" Blair asked questioningly. 

"I...uh...happened to be walking by and I overheard your comment about not being able to dance." 

Jim's sentinel abilities easily recognized the white lie, but he made no motion to call the young woman on it. In fact, he found himself torn between being embarrassed that Sabra had listen to their conversation and gratitude for her thoughtfulness. One look at the appreciation on Blair's face was enough for Jim to settle for gratitude. 

"Aaanyway," Sabra drawled, "I put a cd in the player, just hit the button when you're ready. I...um...the song kinda reminds me of you guys, so I...uh..." 

"Thank you, Sabra." Blair said quietly, understanding her hesitation. 

"Enjoy." With that simple word, the young student exited room, locking the door on her way. 

Neither man moved for a few moments, uncertain as to what to do next. It wasn't as if they'd never danced together before, it just felt more...forced than it had any of the other occasions. Finally, it was Blair that broke the silence. 

"May I have this dance?" Blair asked softly. 

Nodding his assent, Jim waited until his lover found the play button on the nearby boom box. The sentinel almost groaned when he heard the twang of the opening notes of a country song. Only Blair's slight smile kept the older man from changing his mind as the younger man slid his arms around Jim's shoulders. 

//Our love is unconditional  
We knew it from the start// 

As the lyrics reached his ears, Jim tightened his grip on Blair's waist, pulling the younger man even closer. Azure blue eyes slid closed in contentment as Blair's head dropped forward to rest on Jim's right shoulder. Without thought, the sentinel leaned forward to nuzzle his cheek against his guide's soft hair. 

//I see it in your eyes  
You can feel it from my heart  
From here on after  
Let's stay the way we are right now  
And share all the love and laughter  
That a lifetime will allow// 

Placing a tender kiss against the long locks under his lips, Jim tightened his hold. With his sentinel's sense of touch, he felt the muscles of Blair's face flex and knew his guide was smiling -- that small, gentle grin the younger man gifted him with in response to any tender action the sentinel performed. Although he'd never admit it aloud, Jim would move heaven and hell to be on the receiving end of one of those smiles. Knowing that he had coaxed one from his guide brought a grin of triumph to his own face. 

//I cross my heart  
And promise to  
Give all I've got to give  
To make all your dreams come true  
In all the world  
You'll never find  
A love as true as mine// 

//You will always be the miracle  
That makes my life complete// 

As the music continued, the two men swayed together in small circles, until a sudden feeling of restlessness overcame the older man. Without thinking, Jim eased away from Blair, continuing to hold the smaller form in his arms, but enough to put some distance in between their bodies. It took a moment for the older man to find the courage to broach the subject he both needed and dreaded discussing. 

"Jim?" Blair questioned quietly, "what is it?" 

//And as long as there's a breath in me  
I'll make yours just as sweet  
As we look into the future  
It's as far as we can see  
So let's make each tomorrow  
Be the best that it can be// 

"Blair, I..." the sentinel paused, not knowing how to continue. Concerned about Jim's hesitancy, Blair moved a hand to cup Jim's cheek, forcing those sky blue eyes to meet his own. Seeing the steely determination there, the sentinel tried to force himself to voice the thought that wouldn't leave him alone. 

Instead of attempting to find the proper words for his emotion, Jim decided to allow his actions to speak for him. Bringing one of his hands up from Blair's waist, the sentinel carefully cupped one of the younger man's cheeks. The tenderness in the simple action set the stage for the gentle kiss that Jim bestowed upon Blair's full, pouting lips. Instead of the hungry, demanding kisses they'd shared earlier that afternoon, this was more of sweet exchange. It was no less passionate than before, but for a man like Jim, someone who struggled to find the right words, it was the most direct way to communicate the overwhelming love he felt for his guide. 

"Chief...," Jim began once they broke apart for some much-needed air. 

"Sssh," Blair hushed as he raised a finger and pressed it against his lover's slightly-swollen lips, effectively silencing the older man. 

//And if along the way we find a day  
It starts to storm  
You've got the promise of my love  
To keep you warm  
In all the world  
You'll never find  
A love as true as mine// 

"That's how I feel, Jim," Blair said quietly as they listened to the song ending. "I love you more than anything," he whispered as he stroked the short, soft hair at the nape of Jim's neck. 

//A love as true as mine// 

"And I love you, too, Chief" he reassured. 

* * *

Four days later, it was a tanned, rested, and ready version of Jim Ellison that emerged from the plane at Cascade International Airport. The sentinel spotted Simon's tall form with only a cursory glance at the crowd of friends and family waiting for their loved ones to emerge from the fully booked airplane. Not in any particular hurry, Jim took his time walking over to the Captain of the Major Crimes division. 

"Well," Simon began with a smile, "it looks like the kid finally followed one of my orders. You look a hell of a lot better than you did when you left, Jim." 

"Well, Sir, there really wasn't anywhere for me to go but up," Jim replied wryly. 

"I guess the kid hasn't lost his touch when it comes to taking care of you." 

Although Simon's comment was made in total innocence, the sentinel stifled a small chuckle. "No, Sir. He still has that magic touch." 

The End 


End file.
